Cameron waited by the window until she saw Cuddy's vehicle pull over in front of the cabin, hopping up onto the sidewalk. Unwilling to leave it be, he began correcting the position. Cuddy must have been at a window as well, anxiously waiting for her vehicle; because she was out in a flash, approaching her car and the man she loved behind the wheel. They began unloading groceries, and Cameron wrestled with the friendly obligation to go help them, and the moral obligation to keep her word. Eventually, her morals won and she continued to watch, feeling every second like an ass for doing so. It was only her ringtone that could distract her, though not before frightening her. Heartened to see Michael's name, she quickly took the call.

"Hi, Michael," she said, and as she listened to him, her relief quickly subsided. "Is that the only reason you're calling? Well, I was hoping to work this out; I love you."

Listening some more, she walked to the bed, slowly sitting on the foot of it. "I never cheated on you. Come—isn't there something I can do?" she asked, and looked down as he continued to speak. "Alright. Alright, I'll come get them," she mumbled, and slowly hung up. She took a moment to organize her thoughts, then headed for the bedroom door when her phone rang again. Groaning, she looked at the caller ID and took the call again. "Hey, did you find him?"

She covered her mouth as she leaned against the door, then ran her hand through her hair. "Okay. I... I can't," she said, and retraced her steps to the bed. "I'm sorry, but you're not the only one having marriage problems!" she said loudly. She lingered, settling with a kick to the bottom of the bed frame. "No, I suppose I don't know whose problems are bigger. But Cuddy and House can help you, okay? I have my own stuff to take care of." She turned to the door and tried her best to ignore another bout of friendly obligations. "Well, I guess it's...time for me to move on," she said, and hung up. Feeling a rush of hatred towards House, she took another moment to compose herself, then opened the door and headed downstairs. The front door was wide open and Cuddy was heading back in with another load of groceries. Cameron couldn't see House—until she stepped off the landing, and found herself looking into his cold eyes. Seeing only her divorce papers looking back at her, she turned her head and ignored him as she got her coat and shoes.

Startled by her lurking in the shadows, Cuddy stopped cold in the doorway, looking annoyed as she continued into the cabin. "That's all of it."

House was quiet, his analytical and much too intelligent eyes alternating between the girls. Then Cameron's words confirmed his suspicions.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm out of here," she hissed, as she yanked her shoes on. "And Kayla called. Said she needs help, so now I'm asking you." She flipped up her hoodie and opened the door to the pouring rain. "Good luck with each other."

The door slammed behind her. Cuddy crossed her arms, watching Cameron walk swiftly through the hard rain.

"More stuff for you and me, then," House said. He dropped the bottom of his cane through the handles of the nearest shopping bag and started dragging it, noisily towards the kitchen. "Quick question, uh, do you like zero calorie stuff, or was that her?"

She turned to face him, crossing her arms. Their eyes locked and he came to a halt, not liking the expression she wore. "Okay. Maybe next time we could write a list; you know, this spontaneous shopping is—"

"House," she interrupted. He clammed up, looking at her in mild concern. "Are you a criminal?"

He seemed to relax then. "I forge signatures to get Vicodin, fire a gun in the hospital, park my car in your living room, and you want to know if I've done anything shady?"

She briefly considered, then looked hesitantly at him. "Never mind."

"Great. Never did get an answer about the calories."

"Yes," she said loudly, and knelt to pick up two bags. "But on an important note, we still have to do something about Kayla."

"Strongly disagree," he said, as he began putting groceries onto the counter. "If it's not our marriage, it's not our problem." He looked up at her, noticing her sudden reticence. "Not that I would ever marry such a shady character."

"House, for all we know, he could be dead."

He considered all the dangerous stuff Logan was into, then relented and pulled out his phone. He speed-dialed and waited for three and a half rings before there was an answer.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" Chase asked.

"Hello to you, too," House growled, and got to the point when Cuddy urgently motioned. "Uh... Some new developments over here. The guy, the husband, um... Loser went missing, so I thought you could call him."

"Sure. I'll do that now."

"Thanks a bundle."

"I'm not doing this for you. You know what, House, you can just—"

House's eyebrows went up as Chase started cussing him out in Australian slang. Too amused to hang up the phone, House listened nearly thirty seconds before Chase finally hung up. Wishing he could have recorded that, he placed his phone on the counter. "He says he's happy to help," he announced, and forced his eyes away from the expecting look on her face. "Chips?" he asked, and received a quiet nod. "I bought some bowls, too," he announced, and she went skimming over the bags until she found them.

"And the, uh, frying pan?" she asked.

"Where there's a will, there's a way."

He began filling up their bowls as she continued looking over the groceries. She plopped a bag down onto the counter and pulled out a tray of candles; then rested her chin in her hands, staring at him. "I'm really not in the mood for romance."

"That, my lovely side thorn, is how we'll do our cooking."

"Really?" she asked.

If the downward inflection of her voice didn't say she was not convinced, the look on her face said it all. House leaned forward, putting his arms on the counter. "Really," he said. "You dropped everything, drove a long way... Knowing I wasn't worth it."

She stared at him, until his ringtone broke the quiet. He picked it up with an irritating speed. "Yeah."

He waited a few breaths, then snapped his phone shut. "No answer from Lenny."

Considering all the similarities House had found, he met Cuddy's eyes and spoke in an uncharacteristically unsure voice. "Care to call the shots again?"

She stood up straight, adjusting her shirt. "Eat up and visit the little boys' room. We'll take my car."

"I should hope so. It's fucking miserable out there."

Cuddy turned away, grabbing the toilet paper. "We'll drop Cameron off at her place first. I don't want her stuck out there."

"Any other shots? Diprivan? Thiopental?" he called, and she grinned at him as she went upstairs. Making a face, he clenched his hand into a fist—and both heard and felt his phone crunch in his hand.

As the drive progressed, Cuddy's optimism began to rapidly dwindle. "I'm not depleting my bank account driving aimlessly through Canada," she said, subtly shaking her head as she drove. Then she spared her passenger a glance. "Do you have any ideas?"

House turned his head to meet her eyes, but wouldn't talk; looking quietly at her.

She shrugged, returning her eyes to the road. "Cameron said you've known him the longest."

"Doesn't mean I know him well," he growled. He thought briefly, but could only add, "Kayla knows him well. If she can't find him, then why are we wasting our time?"

"It's what people do."

Over the pitter-patter of raindrops on the windshield and the hum of the engine, they heard Cameron quietly scoff in the backseat; accompanied by the whooshing sound effect of a text message being sent.

"Come on, House, you've got to give me something. Otherwise I could have left you behind."

Expertly quelling his mounting frustration, he only rolled his eyes before mustering a response. "I remember seeing a lot of bottles at their house. Maybe he went to a bar."

"Marvelous, that's...that's fantastic, because this country's only got the one bar."

"Okay, maybe he went home."

"Okay, and where's home?" she bit.

"Up your ass, from the sound of it," he said, as he took some Vicodin. Speaking around the pills, he added, "Road rage kills, you know."

In the silence, they heard the chime of an incoming message, followed by the tapping of buttons from the backseat. House turned to look over his shoulder at Cameron, whose eyes rolled up to meet his; her face illuminated by the screen in the abysmal daylight. Then she looked back at her screen, tapping some more before audibly sending her message.

"Okay, then, let's just, um...call the whole thing off," Cuddy said nonchalantly. "I'll return you to your shed, and clear it up with Kayla that you weren't in the mood to look for a missing person."

He considered, briefly. "Okay," he said impassively, and turned his eyes to the window.

The car began to decelerate, until it came to a complete stop in the middle of the road. Cuddy's coat rustled as she angled her body to look at him. "Okay?" she repeated.

"Even if I wanted to care about what people think of me, it's a little late to start."

"You care. I know you do. I've seen it."

"You've seen me trying to care. And failing, by the way."

"Well, just... Keep trying."

"Well, see, I would, but unfortunately, I don't care." Adjusting his position, he added, "And if you think I do, then you don't know me as well as you thought. I don't care what you say to her, I don't care what Foreman said to you, I don't care."

"That... No, that's not true. You just want it to be. You want misery, because it's reliable. But it's not worth it, House," she said.

"If it's reliable, it's worth it. The entire point of living is death; it's...meaningless."

"Don't say that."

"I said it. And I'll say it again."

In the quiet, the car was filled with the chime of another incoming message. Still rotated to face House, it was easy for Cuddy to look over at Cameron. "Is that Kayla?"

"No."

"Well, then, do you mind? We're talking."

"There's nothing to talk about," House objected.

"House, when someone says all life is meaningless, it deserves to be acknowledged. After someone fires a gun during a phone call and says my daughter will die..."

"I didn't mean me."

"Oh, well, that's just a load off my mind!"

Cameron scoffed again, leaning forward and tapping Cuddy on the shoulder. "You know, kind of insulting you're keeping me at arm's length, but he gets the passenger seat. I haven't done anything."

"Well, then, you have a ton of explaining to do."

"You really want to know how I got Wilson's wallet? I got it from House."

Cuddy's head swiveled so she was looking back at him, in silent wonder. "I thought you said the cancer killed him."

"The cancer was never going to kill him." House shrugged. "It wasn't how he wanted to die."

Cuddy hesitated for a moment, then covered her eyes with her hands. "So you...you killed him."

"No," Cameron objected. "He didn't."

"How did he die, then?" Cuddy demanded.

"Suicide."

She sat for a moment, hands in her lap as she avoided looking at either of them; then, without breaking her silence, she continued to drive. House glanced at her for a handful of seconds, then turned his grumpy face to the road ahead. "Did you know distracted driving kills 400 people every year?"

"I can't just not think about it anymore, House. I'm not you."

He looked at her and took a moment to assemble a response, finally asking, "Would you like to rob a bank with me?"

She spared him an incredulous glance. "Excuse me?"

"Just wondering. You know, there's the handlers, the getaway driver. It's not a one-man operation."

"No! I wouldn't like to rob a... Are you on something?"

"You still have to ask?" Cameron grumbled.

"I'm kidding," House said, not once having broken a smile. He turned his attention up front again, cocking his head. "But...you know. You won't rob a bank with me, but you're totally cool to give me a ride. After everything I've done. To you, to others, to myself. Notwithstanding all the efforts to stop me, make me a better person, even though people don't change..." He paused, still avoiding all eye contact. "Even though people didn't want me to change," he concluded quietly.

"So you're just—"

"Farming for answers, as usual."

"Of course. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not doing this for either one of you." Cuddy's eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror as another incoming message rang, and she saw Cameron smiling at her phone.

"Thanks, Cuddy," Cameron said, as she unbuckled. "And see, look. You're still alive!"

"Yeah, maybe only because it's not just the two of us," Cuddy grumbled.

"Hey, you know what? Killing people? Kind of goes against my profession."

"Well, you're not on the clock now, are you?"

Cameron's hand left the door handle and she slouched forward. "If you don't trust me, why are you inflicting yourself upon me to help some random stranger?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"True. Not like she's the only stranger who could use the help."

"I decided to accept my fate with dignity."

"You're not meeting your fate!" Cameron snapped, and angrily opened the door. She let herself out, checking her phone as she walked to her house.

Cuddy began backing out of the driveway. Performing the over-the-shoulder check, she saw House gazing at her. When he continued to stare, she felt her face warm but refused to look away from the road. "What?"

"You think Cameron, of all people, is a killer?"

"I don't know what to think. It's complicated," Cuddy murmured.

"Too bad you don't have a diagnostician in your car."

Despite herself, Cuddy began to smile, shaking her head. "I've been under the impression that you were helping Logan. And Kayla," she added, with a subtle motion of her hand. "But then earlier, back at the...pathetic shed you're holed up in, it seemed like she was covering up something even worse!"

"What's worse than—"

"I don't know! I don't know."

House absorbed her words, but could only say, "Interesting."

A light giggle in the backseat made him look over his shoulder. Having taken Cameron's place, Amber smiled at him. "Isn't it?" she asked, and continued to intimidatingly observe him as a shaking hand reached discreetly for his pills.